Nysa
by QuiteQuiet
Summary: The villagers of Paradise have lived for generations in a peaceful home. But tensions with the animals sharing the environment create conflict, and those in favor of respecting the wildlife depart to find a new home. [not using humans from the franchise. please read author's note.]


_**Author's Note: Hey all, this is a different sort of fanfiction than usual. It could pass off as an original fiction, but those who know Pokemon well can see through the details in these creatures. **_

_**This was something I wrote a couple years back for a school assignment. We'd read **_**One Hundred Years of Solitude_ by Gabriel García Márquez, and were assigned to write our own genealogical tale. I decided to put Pokemon in mine, which pretty much guaranteed I couldn't ever profit from it. So I'm putting it here. Enjoy._**

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><p><strong><strong>Long ago in a forgotten rainforest, there lived a tribe of people called the Paridesians, as their village was named Paradise. Their tribe was made up of two leaders, Kuwat and Yuda; a medicine man, Darma; and all their brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and mothers and fathers and children. They picked fruit from trees, hunted small animals, and lived in caves with straw padding.

Tame as the Paradesians were, there was always a debate between them concerning the vast amount of animals sharing their home. Colorful butterflies with long mouths came every spring to pollinate flowers. Fragile as they were, they were also easily provoked, and would reverse their pollination abilities to drain the energy of those who angered them. Another creature was the big blue salamander, which floated along placidly in the river. A third was the long-necked saurian, strafed with leaves and often seen flying. Children liked to climb the longnecks and eat the fruit growing from their chins. While these creatures could be dangerous, they were generally easygoing and a few had even found their way to Paradise. Kuwat himself had a green bird adorned with Nazca markings who always stood still and stared straight ahead. His name was Suharto, and although some of the village accepted him, others could not part him from wilder creatures of the rainforest.

"That bird is a danger to our community," Yuda said one morning while sitting under his favorite yew tree. "I've seen it sitting for hours on end, doing nothing. Who knows what it's planning? It's the same as the monsters who roam outside the borders." Yuda was old, and learned to stay far away from certain creatures. Black dogs scampered back and forth in the grass. Bladed bipeds carried away prey to be sliced and hacked. Strange floating humanoids were rarely seen, but their presence was made with the sudden and terrible feeling of a headache. And most nefarious of all was the Grim Hound, whose howl brought shudders to every living thing. Horns sprouted from its head, and it had the peculiar and fantastic ability to breathe fire. Hearing it at night was an ill omen.

Kuwat could not see how his beloved Suharto could be anything like these beasts. He was supported by Darma, whose cave attracted a manner of things useful in his healing work. "There are special things in the animals we see," he once told Kuwat. "Even the ones we must avoid can teach us things about ourselves and the world around us."

One night Kuwat was going to his cave when he noticed Suharto acting strangely. Instead of closed to the side, his wings were spread high, as if to catch sound. His eyes were staring in different directions, and as Kuwat looked on, he shuddered. Kuwat went to comfort him, but as he did so he was suddenly surrounded by ghosts. He watched them go about their nightly activities, and realized with a sense of dread that they behaved just like the Paradesians. No creatures were with them, and Kuwat felt the dread fall all the way to the pit of his stomach. The Grim Hound howled, and the ghosts disappeared. By dawn a child was found dead.

The leaders called a meeting. When everyone gathered around the yew tree Kuwat spoke of his visions. The crowd began to talk amongst itself. Yuda scowled until they stopped speaking. "This never happened before," he said. "Your bird is obviously tainted, tricking you with spells. He must have been responsible for the child's death. If he is not, it was the Grim Hound. I vote we outlaw all creatures from our village."

"But we need them," Kuwat protested. "The butterflies bring life to the flower we feast our eyes upon each spring. The dogs scare off the prey we eat closer to our home. The children have never been hurt by the saurians they climb. And does the salamander not teach us to stop and rest ourselves every once in a while?"

"You've spent too much time with that bird," Yuda said. "It's made you too sympathetic toward the animals, as if you could just run off and be one of them. You may be leader, Kuwat, but so am I, and I am your elder. No beast will be allowed in Paradise. And those who disagree must leave as well."

Kuwat and the other exiles packed their few belongings for a trip to nowhere. Before they left they were beckoned by Darma, the medicine man. "I cannot go with you," he said. "The Paradesians need me more than you do. But I suggest letting your bird lead the way, and my guess is it will take you to the river, which always flows strong. You will find a new home at the end of that river." With that he shooed away his herbal companions, taking note of where they could be found later.

Kuwat and his people followed Suharto, who indeed took them across the river to another rainforest, even more lush than the last. It was crawling with animals, some old, many new. They found a good place to settle, and once again Suharto stood still and silent with both wings tucked at his side. Kuwat and his wife had the most spacious dwelling in the new village. Two swallows nested in the trees above it and never left.

A month later Kuwat had a son. "His name will be Connor, a new-sounding name in celebration of our new home, which I call Nysa." Connor grew up as accepting of the animals as his parents. He hid in fronds during his childhood, watching black dogs raise their young. One day one of them was left behind. Connor befriended it with food, and soon a receptive partnership was made. In his sixteenth year Connor watched it miraculously transform into an adult, suddenly glowing and becoming much bigger. Gone was its fluffy fur, giving way to a sleek coat with two bands of hair running down its back. It saw Connor as its leader, and other dogs saw it as their leader. Connor banded them all into one pack, for hunting larger game and protect the village from other creatures. Gone went the strange humanoids with their headache-inducing abilities. Gone went the smaller, hornless relative of the Grim Hound, which the pack beat by digging underground and then striking. Wild dogs were kept at bay, saving many children who through the association of Connor's pack thought all of them friendly and playful. And never again would ears hear the eerie sound of the Grim Hound. Connor named all of his dogs, and though he loved them dearly, his first one, Iskander, was special. Iskander was there during the birth of Connor's three children.

Connor's firstborn, Ambrosia, was quiet but dreamy. She got scolded by neighbors who called out as she wandered toward bramble bushes, lost in thought. Rather than fearing the fire hounds and poisonous snakes, she was fascinated by them, even using an uncanny knowledge of plants to heal them when they were sick. Ambrosia was blessed with a compassion for all creatures and one day became rewarded with a visit from a white flying creature. Its neck seemed to protrude from an egg, its head spiked. Ambrosia did not know what it was, but she knew it had never shown itself to a human before, and its mere presence filled her with happiness. It led her to a clearing where a green saurian with a flower around its neck sat on the ground. It gave off an aroma that made Ambrosia want to lay in the grass and sink beneath its surface. When it breathed out, a patch of wilted flowers rose back to life. It looked serenely at Ambrosia, and then she knew this saurian would help her create herbs for her tribe. So then the Nysans had a medicine woman.

Connor's second born, Mason, liked using his hands. He observed the many habitats of the creatures around him and pondered on how to improve his own. He found the answer when he approached a faraway noise, discovering three humanoids building. They each had big muscles, with veins pumping out their bodies and roses red and round like an entertainer's. They saw Mason watching, looked at his thick arms, then invited him and showed him how they used trees, metal, and an unusual thick substance to construct and mold a home. Mason brought the humanoids to Nysa, letting them show off their tremendous strength building everybody homes. They doubled as excellent protection, swinging their tools and displaying a peculiar ease in killing wild dogs and fire hounds, and especially the bladed bipeds, who sported nearly impenetrable bodies. For this reason they were not allowed near Iskandar's pack, but they learned to live in mutual peace.

Years passed. Connor had a third child, a daughter named Sita. Sita was interesting in bringing food to her people. She enlisted the builders to aid her in clearing a large patch of land. She anticipated that the farther away she got, the more helpful creatures she would find. She guessed correctly, leaving the rainforest altogether to settle in a wide field backdropped by mountains. The builders constructed a large barn and a simple home beside it. During this time Sita explored the terrain and found potential workers. The first was a pink bovine, munching on the grass. Her udders were plump with healthiness. Sita observed her to be docile, and tamed her with caresses and bundles of hay. She lived in the barn, providing milk that Sita learned to fashion into other products.

Her second companion was a short but tenacious dog, found running along the mountainside. It saw Sita and stopped short, retreating warily. Sita came back every day with compliments and fish. The dog eventually went with her; feisty, loyal, an excellent herder and ratter.

Sita's third companion was the most dangerous, one not won over by praise. He was a bull, solid and packed, his three tails whipping in dominance. He had many outbursts of rage, sometimes destroying entire areas for no discernible reason. Sita corralled him with the help of her dog, who nipped it into giving chase. He was isolated in the corral for days, surrounded by the builders, who would not let him escape. He finally calmed in the presence of Sita's pink bovine, who would walk up and touch him with her nose. Sita used him for drafting, marveling at the way he occasionally summoned water out of nowhere to nourish her crops. Sita knew the work was done in exchange for food, the female, and the respect of solitude, so she never spoke to the bull, instead patting him on the head before letting him free for the evening.

Her work paid off tremendously, amassing a whole new chain of delicacies for the village. Nysans gathered to her traveling cart on Sundays, stocking up on milk, cheese and vegetables. They visited her farm and asked her questions. Satisfied as she was, Sita didn't like working so hard for nothing in return. She became irritable, sometimes staying away from Nysa for months.

Ambrosia had a daughter as well. Utari had a patient nature, sometimes waiting hours into a conversation for the time she could put in a good word. It does not need to be said that she was very good around animals, content to hide in the background and watch them day by day. One morning she sat by the river, picking up little gold pieces that stood out from their dull counterparts. Leaves rustled then, and she stopped to observe some simians bounding through the trees. The green one used its arms to travel, but the purple one used its tail, which was tipped with a large, dextrous hand. Utari waited until they were in the rainforest, then followed from a distance.

The simians stopped above a larger primate, calling down to him as he sat on a bundle of sticks. The primate, a brilliant flame waving on the back of his head, had a coat with a multitude of exposing red and white but exuded a strength and wisdom that kept him from being preyed upon. The tree-bound simians brandished some purple fruit. Utari knew the flaming simian could not reach these fruits, for they were high in the trees that would light ablaze should he poke his head in. Utari watched him take the fruits, inspect them, and then give the simians sticks, which he had obviously sharpened. Then he set the other sticks on fire-which he could put out later-and followed the simians to another tree. He threw a rock at a bee's nest, dousing the ensuing swarm in flames as the smaller monkeys used their sticks to extract honey from the hive. Utari went back to the river and picked up more gold. "Aha," she thought, "we can give this to Sita in exchange for the food, just as the simians gave their neighbor fruit in exchange for his services." Thus currency was established.

In the fourth and final founding generation, Sita gave birth to Guntur, a serious-looking fellow with eyes deep in thought. He helped her on the farm, keeping track of as many patterns as he could find. One summer the sun blazed endlessly, even illuminating the night sky with its intensity. Sita's crops dried up. The cow gave less milk. The bull stamped and snorted, sweating with delirium. Guntur knew this was a disruption in a pattern, so he went out where the sun was hottest and started digging. After ten minutes he struck something that reverberated with a clang. His hand trembled from the vibration. He unearthed a giant bell with arms, carved with markings that reminded him of the bird at the village. At once the bell stood up. It floated in the air, performing a motion of waves, turns and bounds. Clouds covered the sky, drenching the world in rain. Crops magically sprouted. Guntur reburied the bell and mimicked the dance whenever he experienced a prolonged drought.

Utari had two children. The first, Charles, was obsessed with moving. He caused trouble amongst Nysa by being so on the go, so he walked in a random direction to find something miraculous. An equine of black and white streaked through the hillside, electricity discharging wildly through its mane. Charles never got close to it. It had a wild temper and eyes that proved none were a match for it. Another electrical beast was more frontal about its power. Furry and bipedal, it carried two prongs on its back that hummed when not in use. Its favorite food was the delicate birds that flew overhead. It would shoot bolts from its fingers, find the fallen bird, and plug its prongs into the bird's back, letting loose with a blinding amount of electricity. Round metallic objects often floated by this beast, but it did not seem to mind.

Charles was fascinated by the way the equine would tear into the horizon, then reappear seconds later. He wished he had a way to do the same thing. He met with the builders, who helped him create a locomotive. In just a week they had the railroad up and running. Steel and concepts of current flow were applied, much like the behavior of the surrounding creatures. Charles noted how the male birds in the area had a harder time flying than the females due to the magnificent crests on their heads. He made sure not to put any unnecessary decorations on his locomotive. On his first train ride he came across another village with many new things. He quickly arranged a trade with the village elder that would expand into an ongoing merchant route. On the ride home he spied he equine, who seemed to be having a race with him. He laughed and went full speed ahead.

Nysa grew, enriched by the discoveries of the past four generations. People were trying to figure out a way to travel high in the sky. Kuwat and his bird were long gone, but everyone remembered their role in creating this new land. And everyone grew to love and care for the animals around them, peaceful and dangerous. Utari's daughter was named Anastasia, and for a long time she oversaw operations in her village, fixing what she saw broken and taking in suggestions for further improvement. Over time the Nysans remembered their old Paradise and wondered how the rest of their tribe was doing. Anastasia arranged a trek to Paradise in order to ask them if they wanted to move to their village. But all they found when they got there was a human skull.


End file.
